


Tummy Troubles

by FalconHonour



Series: The Malfoy Twins [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Difficult Toddlers, Malfoy Family, Other, Toddler Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconHonour/pseuds/FalconHonour
Summary: At two, Draco and Flavia Malfoy are quite old enough to be handed into a nanny's care. Draco, indeed, has even learnt to use the potty. The same cannot, however, be said for his little sister.





	Tummy Troubles

Everyone knew that the best magical families could afford to pay half-bloods or Muggleborns to act as nannies to their children. And, though one could say what one liked about a world that considered Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to be among its most upstanding citizens, in terms of wealth, they most certainly were. As such, they engaged Esther Lytton as Draco and Flavia’s nanny beginning with the twins’ first birthday, as soon as the babies’ magic had stabilised enough not to react badly with magic that differed more from their own than their parents’ magic.

Esther had come with the highest recommendations from the Farleys – their youngest daughter, Gemma, had been four at the time, quite old enough for a governess as opposed to a nurse – and indeed, had settled in quite smoothly. The Malfoys were most content with their selection. After all, just look what wonders she’d worked, in scarcely a year! Draco was already out of nappies and quite the polished young gentleman, when he put his mind to it. As for Flavia, she had grown into quite the charming little thing, already able to bob an approximation of a curtsy, copy Narcissa haltingly when they played the piano together, and flutter her eyelashes to get what she wanted. What more could they ask for in a daughter?

Well, ‘Nanna Stuh’, as the twins called her, might have had ideas about that, if anyone had bothered to ask her. More to the point, she might have had very specific ideas.

For the most part, Esther, thought, as she sat by the fire in the Malfoy nursery, her charges, for once playing quietly together, just around the corner, Master Draco was the more rambunctious of the two, as one might expect from a fearless little boy just past his second birthday. He was the one more likely to get into trouble for clambering up the chest of drawers, for example, or throw a tantrum because he didn’t want to wear his socks.

But that was just simple naughtiness born of high spirits and a newfound sense of independence, and a decade of dealing with young Farleys had taught Esther every trick in the book when it came to dealing with that. What it hadn’t taught her to deal with, however, was Miss Flavia’s chronic refusal to move her bowels.

Oh, it wasn’t a new thing. Esther had noticed very early on that, while Master Draco dirtied his nappy twice daily like clockwork, Miss Flavia was far more unpredictable in her pooing habits, and often needed help to get herself going. Esther had spent many a night massaging the little girl’s tummy while she screamed, growled and grunted, too uncomfortable to sleep, but unable to do anything about it.

But Esther hadn’t worried too much, not at first. She’d been convinced that the trouble would resolve itself once Miss Flavia learnt to use the potty.

But Miss Flavia didn’t learn to use the potty. Perhaps that should have been her first clue that this wasn’t going to be as simple a fix as she thought. Esther had always been taught – and seen for herself, first with her younger siblings and then with the Farley children – that girls were quicker on the uptake with potty training than boys. The Malfoy children, however, threw that out of the window.

Whether it was because Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa expected more from their heir than their little girl, Esther couldn’t be sure, but, determined to please his parents, Master Draco was both dry and clean almost from the age of eighteen months, at least during the day.

Miss Flavia, on the other hand, was far lazier about the whole thing – which was strange, because the Malfoy twins were usually fiercely competitive. Whatever one did, the other had to be able to do too. Regardless, it wasn’t until just after her second birthday that Miss Flavia could be relied upon to want to use the potty regularly, and even then, it was only for pee.

Pooing, on the other hand, was still as much of a rigamarole as it had ever been. Indeed, it was more so.

The older Miss Flavia got, the harder it was to persuade her to even try to open her bowels. She had to do it on her terms, and in precisely the manner she chose.

Esther had complained to Lady Narcissa, but the mistress of the house refused to even try to intervene, reminding Esther that Miss Flavia had always struggled, and surely it was too harsh to punish a toddler for something that caused her pain and distress?

Esther scoffed at that. Not at the fact that withholding caused Miss Flavia pain, for it did, but at the fact that Lady Narcissa couldn’t see that her daughter was partly acting the way she did because she liked having the staff (Esther and house elves alike) catering to her every whim. Just because Miss Flavia never acted anything less than the cherub in front of her parents, didn’t mean she wasn’t incapable of being as stubborn and spoilt as any other member of the Malfoy family. Indeed, back when Esther had first become the twins’ nanny, it had been Miss Flavia who kept her up at night, crying and fussing to be held and petted in a way that Master Draco never did.

Without the Mistress on her side, however, there was little Esther could do. As such, she was stuck toeing the line beneath Miss Flavia’s tyranny.

Every four or five days, without fail, the signs would be there. Miss Flavia would be impossible all day. She’d refuse to eat and scream like a stuck pig the moment she was even the slightest bit unhappy. She’d shove and pinch her brother relentlessly and not sit still for more than a moment at a time, no matter how much Esther bribed, threatened or scolded her.

Eventually, often late in the afternoon, Miss Flavia would come over to Esther, dragging a clean nappy behind her on the floor. She would demand to be pinned into it, often screaming and wailing piteously throughout. Then she would clamber on to Esther’s knee.

“Ubbles! Ubbles!”

She would roar her little lungs out, not letting up even for a moment until Esther gave in and summoned the everlasting bottle of  Quidditch-themed bubble mixture and the bubble wand for her to play with.

And there she would sit, like a little Queen, bouncing on Esther jarringly and blowing glittering Quaffles and Snitches into the air for her brother to catch for as long as she wished before she finally gave an almighty heave and emptied her stomach into a bulging nappy with a blood-curdling shriek that turned into a drawn-out groan. Sometimes the game was over within a minute, perhaps two. The longest it had ever gone on was just over forty minutes. Esther had needed two pain-relieving potions after that particular incident.

She had remonstrated bitterly with Lady Narcissa the next day, but the younger woman had simply shrugged.

“My children are Malfoys, Miss Lytton. They will do as they please, when they please. The quicker you learn that, the happier your tenure as their nurse will be.”

Suddenly, a raucous wail broke into Esther’s musing.

“Draco! NO! Mine! Nanna Stuh! Nanna Stuh!”

Esther sighed and laid aside her Nettle and Lavender tea, scrambling to her feet.

“Coming, Miss Flavia!” she called back, racing round the corner to try to prevent a flood of tears but it was too late. Miss Flavia dissolved into noisy sobs as her brother danced around the room, bearing her precious teddy aloft triumphantly.

Master Draco was scolded, the toy recovered and placed in Miss Flavia’s arms moments later, but it made not the slightest bit of difference. Miss Flavia had inherited her flair for dramatics from both her parents. As ever, despite having been defended, she melted into a pool of tears that it took nearly twenty minutes of cuddling and several Fudge Flies to quieten.

When she was finally soothed, Esther glanced at the clock, barely biting back a groan at the realisation that it was only three in the afternoon. It was on days like this that she couldn’t wait for bedtime to come around.

 


End file.
